Run
by skullanddog
Summary: Stranded on an ice world, surrounded by monsters, Loki is the only one who can get his friends to safety... or can he?


_A/N:_ I just really needed to write something! If you can, please listen to Deadmau5's Right This Minute and Raise Your Weapon as you read this.

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Running. Running. Running. Still running, fuck.

There were more of them ahead on the dark and winding track, the treacherous track so far above the void of ocean, more ahead of him and more flanking him and so many, many behind him.

Like ugly dogs with human faces they were, their bloody gashes of mouth bristling with needle teeth. Too many teeth crammed into that small space, black tongues punching themselves full of holes so that the blood streaking their chins was not only that of Loki's friends, but of the monsters.

Were they poisonous? Was there disease in the blood?

He alone had been sent from his brother's side. Run, Fandral said, run, as fast as you can. Call Heimdall to open the Bifrost. Get us home!

He heard Fandral's scream across the frosted waste. So he thought. Was it Fandral or was it the master of this realm, the world eater, the serpent, Jormungand? Ignoring the fierce pain in his leg and side, Loki threw a wild glance over the ledge, into the consuming darkness. His blood ran cold. The silver-plated back of the world eater undulated from the rotten cliff sides, wrapping itself around the great pillar island of ice Thor and his friends made their stand.

Loki, Loki, he was the fastest. Was that it? Or was he the one they trusted least to defend their backs? At that moment, sprinting over the ice, occasionally glimpsing his blood splashing black on the ghost of a path, he cared not the least. Let them die, if they distrusted him so; let them be torn to pieces. They had left him alone to run through this Hel. Thor, too! Run, brother, run alone.

Well he could not run. There were more of the monsters ahead of him. Loki kicked one of the dogs viciously from the path, not watching it plummet into the depths of this miserable Hel. Another came for him and he bashed it aside with his sceptre. Plunged and gutted it. Swept others away before they could lay tooth on him. One he missed lunged from the side and shoved him to his knees. He could not fight forever, was already fatigued. Just another dungeon crawl. Much better with friends. With burning arms and weak legs he knocked the monster away, stood, grabbed the thing by the scruff of its neck and threw it from the ledge. This time he did watch, his stomach curling as the monster bounced off the world eater's silver back.

He staggered towards the calling place and another dog hit him on the back.

Who's got your back, Loki? His own mind was taunting him. He told it to shut up, shut up, who was he, Sif? There was danger enough without his own mind tormenting him. With fury born of his growing fatigue he slammed the sceptre backwards into the monster's chest, grabbed it by its face over his shoulder and swung it over the ledge. Damn. That one had hurt. Loki staggered up with one fist against the ice, another gripping his knee, trying to keep his shaking body together. The mind was willing, but the flesh, it burned.

Trying to push away the sick feeling of exhaustion, he stumbled into a run. Not much further now. Just on up the ledge he could see the shine where the Bifrost would connect. He shouted to Heimdall, heard no answer. Saw shadows of more dogs on the path. Heard the scream of the world serpent echoed by screams he knew better. The dogs ran for him. Loki pushed his sceptre out ahead of him, duplicated himself, and turned.

As the monsters fell on his image, Loki stumbled into their throng, his attention stolen. Enraptured by the world eater as it smashed through the pillar island, upheaving great columns of ice speckled with the dark figures of the monsters and his friends.

The monsters and the monsters, aside from Thor.

He had to-

Just had to-

Do what?

A growl rose from the pit of him. Loki kicked those monsters off the ledge his sceptre missed. The pain in his limbs fell away to the drum of his heart as he ran for the calling point, shouting for Heimdall with all the breath his lungs would give him, ignoring that sight in the corner of his eye, that corner of his mind, the blocks of ice falling into the void, the figures consumed by the world serpent.

His boot hit the edge. There was no further he could go.

He screamed for Heimdall.

Again.

Like the day before, and the day before that.

Like every day since his plunge into the darkness.

Extracting reality from fantasy, Loki raised his head. It was cold on this world, and dark, but there was no ice like in the world in his dream. Or was it a memory? Alone, with no one to remind him, it was increasingly difficult to remember which was which.

Just to be sure, he checked over his shoulder, and found only grey stone.

He was alone.

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Get it? Please review! I'd review for you)


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